The Saraansh of Mahesh Bhatt's life

An unconventional upbringing fostered by love rather than legitimacy; a childhood spent with a free hand but short-changed by the absence of his Daddy at home; an Aashiq with a marriage turned sour; a movie-maker who has made a Naam for himself, but still strives to find the Arth hidden behind the scenes. Anubha Sawhney unplugs the philosophy of a man who dares to be different.

TNN | Jan 18, 2003, 17:38 IST

An unconventional upbringing fostered by love rather than legitimacy; a childhood spent with a free hand but short-changed by the absence of his Daddy at home; an Aashiq with a marriage turned sour; a movie-maker who has made a Naam for himself, but still strives to find the Arth hidden behind the scenes. Anubha Sawhney unplugs the philosophy of a man who dares to be different.I was a love child: My parents were very much in love, but not married. I was born on September, 20, 1948, to Nanabhai Bhatt, a Hindu, and Shirin Mohammed Ali, a Muslim. I was born after three daughters and followed by a daughter and son. My father did not live with us. When he came home, he never took off his shoes - he wouldn''t be staying.My father had another family: Although my father had two homes, he paid for our education and household expenses. When friends teased me about my father not being at home, I never said he was busy with his film business; rather, I made it clear that he had another home. Despite my pent-up anger, I recognised that there was a bond between my parents which had legitimacy in the heart.All I did was dream: I attended Don Bosco high-school and owe a lot to the priests who groomed me. I was a dreamer and thank God for that! I realised that what is taught at school never works. A priest asked me why I came to school when I thought I knew everything. â€˜You''re right, I wonder why'', I replied. I watched lots of movies. But each time I left a theatre, the high that movies gave me evaporated. The real world is harsh.My mother was unsure of her identity: Whenever Mama signed on my report card, her hands shook while writing the surname - she was unsure of her identity. We lived near Shivaji Park in Mumbai and I grew up playing cricket and seeing netas make promises about the India they would shape. I recall listening to Nehru and Vajpayee. Now, when I pass by the park, I still hear netas saying the same things.I started working while at school: If I knew I had to do something, I did it. Right through school, I did summer jobs - from selling car fresheners to tightening nuts and bolts. I wanted to earn money, specially for my mother, who was the driving force in my life. When I received my first salary - Rs 53 - I handed it over to Mama.I found love in Kiran: While still at school, I met Lorraine Bright, who studied at the Bombay Scottish orphanage. I showed this romance in Aashiqui. I would jump across the wall to meet her but, when we got caught, she had to leave the orphanage. I got her enrolled at the YWCA so that she could become a typist and fend for herself. All along, I kept working. I made ads for Dalda and Lifebuoy. Loren changed her name to Kiran and we were married when I was 20. We had Pooja when I was 21. I remember saying â€˜this is my baby'' over and over again.I hated my anonymity: I had no skills. I just had images in my mind. But I wanted to tell the world: I''m there. I met Raj Khosla, the maker of Mera Gaon Mera Desh, through a cousin who was dating him. He asked me what I knew about films and I said â€˜zero''. He said, â€˜Zero is a brilliant figure to begin with.'' I began assisting Khosla. But the first four films I made flopped.My life fell apart: Around the time my films flopped, my relationship with Kiran moved from bad to worse. We had fallen out of love and I had begun seeing Parveen Babi. I was married to Kiran, had a child, and was responsible for both of them. Still, my physical self was drawn to another woman. The scene was scary - I got into LSD and Parveen went through a series of nervous breakdowns. I went through trauma and a hell of my own making for two and a half years - this is reflected in Arth. I am still responsible for Kiran, though I don''t live with her anymore. I have another family now, but continue to hold her hand.

I invented my own idiom: When I started as a director, the idiom I was required to use was â€˜theirs'' and not â€˜mine''. So, when I invented my own idiom in Arth, a story based on my extra-marital affair, I told my story - everybody''s story. Human beings are pathetically similar. Arth became a hit the same day India brought home the 1983 World Cup. After Arth, I made a number of successful movies - Janam, Saraansh, Naam. I was about 35 and I had arrived!

I converted and married Soni: After Arth was a success, I returned to Kiran. We lived in the same house and had Rahul and - but were labouring to make the marriage work. When I met Soni Razdan, it was like a replay in my life. Soni''s father asked me how I planned to end my ties with Kiran and I said, â€˜with permanence''. But I would not divorce Kiran. Friends suggested that since my mother was a Muslim, I could convert and marry Soni as well. I did just that. Our children, Shaheen and Alia, have brought Soni and me even closer.

I haven''t spent time with my children: I love my children but, being a busy man, haven''t really been around them all the time. Though I indulge my other children - Rahul, Shaheen and Alia - Pooja, being my first child, has spent the maximum number of hours with me. Once, when I was drunk, I wrote Pooja a note, calling her the â€˜heartbeat of this unfathomable universe''. She still has the note. Today, I share a relationship of respect with Pooja.

My Gods died young: I always do my own thing. I am the kind who fires first and takes aim later. If I had listened to the verdict the world had passed on me, I wouldn''t have been me. Today, people talk to me of religious tolerance, but they don''t even know the India I come from. Stories of Shiva and Ganesha were told to me by my Muslim mother. She was the custodian of the mythology people want to preserve. I don''t believe in God. Spirituality, for me, is heightened sensuality. I see no difference between carnal and spiritual love.

I make movies for money: As is the case with everybody, I like to make an impression. I am a hooker, putting on my best to seduce people. I am like the snake-charmer with his been, the clown with his funny act. I am a man of the world. And I have a lot to be arrogant about. The world treats successful people differently. Society is only interested in turning people into money-making machines. Influential people have praised me, but I told them I didn''t want their praise - all I wanted was their money. I didn''t join films for self-expression. I joined because I needed money. Period.

I couldn''t be with my mother when she died: I regret that I didn''t get a chance to direct that one last scene. When my mother finally told me that I was a love-child, I said: â€˜so what?'' She claimed that if she had known I would react the way I did, she would have told me earlier. I am glad I could give my mother some legitimacy - the legitimacy of being Mahesh Bhatt''s mother.

UG Krishnamurthy is my lifeline: Take him away, and I am empty. He told me that there was nothing wrong with me. Krishnamurthy and my mother are the two relationships which define me. I was born to one, resurrected by the other. Krishnamurthy is the most radical man I have met and has always encouraged me to burn more fiercely.

Don''t immortalise me, I am an also-ran: There is so much more to do. I must write more, push more people to discover their hidden talents. I have faith in young people. I believe they are going to make me obsolete. I am not at peace with myself and I don''t want to be. What will I do with the dead peace of the graveyard? I prefer the turmoil of the ocean. And I will always sing my own song.anubha_sawhney@indiatimes.com

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